Cocky Fiance(4)

By: T.L. Smith & Melissa Jane


“I did email you the reminder as you requested.” Hawk looked at his watch, and my legs squeezed tight. His gaze then moved to the flowers, and my own followed.

Anger returned.

“I was side-tracked.”

“So I can see,” he said, voice husky and ruthlessly delightful. He walked past and picked up the card, that like the petals, had found its wayward path after smashing against the wall. He straightened, tanned fingers tapping on the cardboard while he read.

I bit my bottom lip, hard. Those words weren’t meant for anyone else to read.

Especially Hawk.

He glanced at me, my stomach butterflying before rereading the evidence.

Finally, he turned, holding the offending item between us.

His face was stony, eyes deadly serious.

Sexy.

Scary.

“Tell your brothers, Britta.” He handed me the card, fingers grazing my skin before walking out the door, leaving me in a room of broken flowers and possibly a broken heart.

... Possibly.





Chapter 2


Hawk





That skirt did wonders for her, fucking wonders.

All that was on my mind were those legs. Those irresistible fucking legs that were on display every day she wore a skirt. Every. Fucking. Day.

She smiled at me, the same way she did every day.

And I wanted to kiss those lips hard, the same way I fantasized every day.

Instead, just like every other day, I walked back into my office and slammed the door.

Slate was here, and I wasn’t surprised to see him. He usually came over once a week to see his sister. Out of all the Valentino siblings, those two were the closest.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Slate threw a rubber ball against the wall, caught it on rebound and threw it again. He appeared lost in his own head.

“Slate,” I barked at him. He startled, and the ball hit him in the chest before bouncing on the ground. “What do you need, brother?”

He shook his head, unperturbed by my business manners. “Do you think I should find someone for her? Like a date?” he asked, scratching his chin.

“Who?” I asked, feigning ignorance. I knew who he was talking about, but I played along with his game.

“Britta,” he said, retrieving the rubber ball and placing it where it belonged on my desk. “All she seems to do is work. She has zero social life.”

I shrugged my shoulders, indifferently. “She loves her job.”

Slate rolled his eyes. “Please. You love your job, and you should. You’ve created a multi-million-dollar empire on what women wear under their clothes. There’s a lot of guys who would envy your position,” he joked. But it was true, I was constantly surrounded by scantily-clad beautiful women.

“But why does she love it?” he asked, shaking his head. “This isn’t her baby. She needs a date is all I’m saying.”

I paused, considering the words playing on my tongue. “She has an invitation, to his wedding,” I finally announced.

After the hurt Roman had caused her, they would kill him if given a chance. Yet, although Britta was left broken-hearted, she still accepted gracious defeat in the hope of being the better person. And that was precisely the issue. She was too nice. And now the fucker thought he could rub it in. The bastard was getting married to the same bitch he’d had an affair with. His eyes had always wandered. He was constantly looking for the next best thing and missing the one girl who was worth a thousand of the ones he’d ogled.

That was the type of scum he was.

And that was why Britta’s brothers deserved to know. He didn’t deserve her, not from the start.

Britta was a walking sex pistol. And that was coming from a man who worked day and often nights with women parading around in lingerie. But she... she could be fully clothed among the various states of nudity, and still be the hottest woman in the room.

But her brothers weren’t to know that.

I looked back at Slate. He was angry and rightfully so.

“No. Fucking. Way,” he said, both shocked and appalled.

“He sent her flowers, too,” I added, and it was all I needed to say for him to stand, walk off and slam the door behind him without so much as a farewell. I figured it was better him than me. Having Britta on the wrong side was not ideal in many ways. She was an asset to the team, and an asset to my cock if the right time ever came. And I was counting on it. Sooner rather than later.

The clock on the wall barely ticked past a heartbeat before my door flew open.

Britta stood in the doorway, heels and legs for days, her hands on her hips, rage flying from her pretty eyes.

“Why did you tell him?” she demanded. “You know he’s going to tell them all now, and I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

I shrugged my shoulders and proceeded to pull out the files we needed for the upcoming meeting. This seemed to annoy her even more, and I swear I heard a little huff.